


Devil's Tea Party

by Ruuger



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Challenge: Paint It Red, Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Red John enjoy a cup of tea.  Set somewhere  during the latter half of season 5 (before the finale).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Tea Party

Jane set the pot of boiling water on the table and measured the tea leaves into it. The room quickly filled with the sweet scent of the brew, and he sat down in front of the window as he waited for it to steep. It was past midnight on Saturday night, and the building around him was quiet except for the quiet hum of the late-night traffic outside. 

He was roused from his thoughts by a sound of footsteps. It was too late for even the cleaning staff to be around, and Security rarely bothered him anymore, so there really was only one person who it could be.

"Lisbon?" He called out into the darkness, standing up to better see her. "Did we get another case?"

"Guess again," came the reply. Jane felt his heart skip a beat as he recognised the reedy voice. 

The door slid open, and a man stepped into the room. His face was hidden by a red ski-mask, and light reflected from the blade of the scalpel in his hand as he crossed the floor.

"Hello, Patrick." 

"Red John."

Jane kept his eyes on the approaching man, desperately trying to file away every little detail from the way that he moved to the shape of his body. At every step that Red John took towards him, Jane took a step back, until he was standing with his back against the window.

Red John shook his head, his lips curling into a smile. "Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you. I just wanted to have a little talk, like civilized men."

Jane cast a glance towards the door next to him, briefly considering making a run for it, but there was no way but down even if he did manage to escape to the roof. He swallowed down the bile burning at the back of his throat and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked, his voice tinted with confidence he wasn't feeling. "Unfortunately I'm all out of cookies."

Red John laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound that brought chills down Jane's spine.

"Why not?"

He gestured towards the table, and then took a seat on the chair opposite Jane's. Working on autopilot, Jane walked to the shelf where he kept his tea set, and took out another cup and saucer. For a moment he considered trying to get to the gun he'd hidden behind a loose brick, but decided against it. Violence and quick action didn't come naturally to him, so the chances of Red John disarming him before he could fire the weapon were far greater than the chances of him actually managing to kill or even wound Red John.

Jane returned to the table, the cup rattling against the saucer as he poured the tea with shaking hands, and then pushed the cup across the table to Red John.

As he had expected, Red John didn't touch the tea, and waited for Jane to drink first.

He sat down and filled his own cup, raising it to his lips. The familiar taste brought with it a sense of calm, which spread down his body with the heat of the drink. It was a purely psychological effect rather than anything chemical, but his hands were already much steadier when he set the cup down.

Smiling faintly, Red John raised his cup to his lips and took a sip. For a few minutes they just sat in silence, drinking tea, until Red John finally spoke.

"I would like you to reconsider my offer of friendship."

"Or you'll do to me what you did to Lorelei?"

"She had to die because she lost her way. Because you lead her astray."

"I just showed her the truth."

"You made her confused, made her doubt who she was, what she was meant to be. She had such potential." He looked at Jane over the rim of the cup. "Like you do."

Jane met his gaze, his fingers twitching at the urge to throw the tea at Red John's face. "Go to hell."

Red John let out a humourless laugh. "Oh well, I can't say that I'm surprised." He emptied the last dregs of his tea. "Thank you for the tea, in any case. What was it, raspberry?"

"Belladonna."

Red John froze, the cup still in his hand. He stared at Jane, his eyes wide with surprise.

Jane took another sip of tea. "It's a little too sweet for my taste on its own, but with a dash of hibiscus for tartness, the flavour is quite pleasant." He held Red John's gaze. "The only downside is that like with all drugs, in time the body develops a tolerance to it, until you have to drink several cups to get any kind of effect."

The blue china cup slipped from Red John's fingers and smashed into pieces. He staggered backwards, grasping at the wall for support, before his knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor.

Jane continued to sip tea as he watched Red John struggle. A part of him wondered if it was all just a hallucination. Maybe Red John had never even been here, maybe he himself was the one who was lying on the floor. But if it was a hallucination, then at least it was a pleasant one. Not all of them were. 

Finally he set the cup down and crossed the floor, kneeling above Red John. 

Red John was already unconscious, his breathing fast and shallow, and his body racked with small convulsions. Jane reached down and gripped the edge of the ski-mask, and then hesitated. He let go, changing his mind. It didn't matter, not anymore.

Red John's scalpel had fallen on the floor and Jane picked it up, weighing it in his hand. When he looked up he could see Angela and Charlotte standing in the shadows in the corner. He waited for a moment, in case either one of them had something to say, but they remained silent. Then again, what advice could a hallucination give?

"I'm sorry", he said, to no-one in particular, and pressed the blade to Red John's throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by William Blake's poem ["Poison Tree"](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poison-tree/).


End file.
